Hot Mess
by JackValentine
Summary: Suddenly, Slabriel!


**TITLE: **Hot Mess

**AUTHOR: **JackValentine

**BETA: **Souffle&Daleks

**PAIRING: **Heath Slater/Justin Gabriel

**RATING: **NC-17

**GENRE:** PWP

**SIZE: **Mini

**WARNINGS: **None

**AUTHOR'S NOTE:** So… It's an AU, where they are not in WWE and Justin is, apparently, a stripper x)

I also might have put too much thought into Cherry and made her a little bit to comic, but damn! I like this sort of characters. The pic for this fic is what she would probably look like ;)

**DISCLAIMER: **Do not own the guys (I wish I did ^^)

Heath was sitting on the high bar-stool, leaning on the counter, looking at the stage over his shoulder. He tried hard not to stare that fixedly, but it was hard enough. As every move of the slim, but muscular guy spinning around the pole was an essence of perfection. His sexiness and plasticity attracted predatory sights. His hair was a little bit messy and his hot-pink lacquered boxers fetched his tanned skin out nicely.

The ice in Heath's scotch was melting slowly, the drink still untouched, as its owner was dinned by the hard beat of music.

_You were a problem child,_

_Been grounded your whole life_

_And now you're running wild_

_Play with the guys in the good girl_

_Isn't your style_

_You think you're hot shit_

_Super, and I love it, I love it_

_Yeah, Yeah_

_Stumblin but still looking hella fine_

_Keep doing what you're doing and Imma make you mine_

The stripper reacted to every sound of it, dancing and strutting around the pole, rubbing his perfectly fit and retrousse butt against it.

- I need to find him, - said Heath to himself, - Where can I find him? – He yelled at the bartender.

- The Angel?

- What? – But suddenly Slater noticed a pair of aquaish-blue wings on the stripper's hot-pink legwarmers, which, apparently, made him an angel, - yes, that guy.

- This little bitch? – Not even knowing why, Heath got angry at the waiter for calling this boy a bitch, but just for a second, - I honestly wouldn't recommend you.

- Why?

- He's not just a stripper.

- What else?

- A hooker, - said the bartender and handed Heath a little piece of carton, which turned out to be some sort of a business card.

The card had a curved pink border and said: "_Razz_. Model agency for special occasions". It also had a phone number on it.

OOO

After overcoming one flight of stairs, Heath finally reached the room number 241, the number he was sent to by a pretty obscure drag with a very deep voice at the reception desk. Slater sighed and opened the door. Walking in, Heath looked through the whole room, not so big, the entire floor surface was covered with fluffy dark-scarlett carpet and all the lacquered furniture was of the same color. In the hallway there was a huge mirror with a little stand beside it. On top of the stand there was a glass vase full of condoms of different colors that could've been mistaken with candies from the distance. Heath smirked and took one, colored red.

- Take your shoes off, - the soft voice sliced through the silence. Heath noted that the guy sounded rather charming and had a weird accent.

Slater obeyed, and looked up as soon as he was done with his converse. What he saw was The Angel himself, standing in the empty-looking room, beside the huge bed with a scarlett canopy. He was wearing a pair of hot-pink boxers, with the very same blue wings printed on the sides.

- Angel, - said Heath rather sarcastically, - So, what's your real name, Angel?

Angel grinned and breathed out something in between of laughing and gasping. He was kind of offended, but still entertained by how brash his client turned out to be.

- It's none of your business, foxy.

Heath smiled even wider and crumpled the condom in his fingers a little. This sassy-talk was definitely a turn-on.

- Too much swag for a _whore_, - Slater was now openly teasing Angel. He wanted to blow him up. To see what's under the professional shell.

- Don't cross the line, sweetheart, - murmured Angel. He was almost loosing it.

_- You _are telling _me _not to cross the line? – Heath let out a fake laugh, - Come on now. I bet you don't even remember how many dicks visited that ass this week!

Unintentionally, Angel started remembering his clients of this week. The first one to pop up in his mind was a rather cute boy, looking around 18 years old. He visited on Tuesday and was a plainly pathetic lover, despite his cuteness. The other was an old (as it seemed to Angel), sweaty fat cat. He was puffing and snorting for at least five minutes, this randy little slug, but acted like he was a sex-god. Angel almost winced at how disgusted he was, after that visit he was soaking in the shower for nearly two hours and ran out of his shower-gel. The last one came the day before. A tall, muscular brunette with a deep voice and masculine jaw-line, in a fancy suit, wearing an expensive watch. Polite and courteous, with intelligent deep blue eyes. The living dream of any men or woman… With a ridiculously small, tiny, puny dick. It was one of the biggest disappointments of the week, of the _month _for Angel, so he spent the following twenty minutes being bored under the panting man, looking at himself over his client's shoulder in the mirrored ceiling, thinking about how unfair the life was.

- Get onto the bed, - Heath's voice made Angel return back to reality.

He nodded, still beetle-browed, took his boxers off and got onto the bed, into the doggy-position. By this time, Slater already unzipped his jeans and his dick was out, his erection weaving lazily side to side as he walked closer to the bed.

- On your back, - ordered Heath, smearing the lube he took from the huge tube on the nightstand upon the condom the he had already put on.

- Nope, - said Angel with an ice-cold voice, - Not big enough to rule the roost, darling, - which was absolutely not true, as Heath was bigger than average, - And I don't wanna see you anyway.

- Oh, really? - Angel's venom hit the target, - Don't you?

Angel felt the mattress move a little, but he didn't even have the time to conclude that it was Heath getting on the bed, as Slater just thrust in without further ado. Angel let out a long, loud moan of pain and pleasure, because all of a sudden Heath hit the target right with the first move. It's been a long time since Angel's client was big enough or confident enough for him to actually be pleasured during sex, so it took him by surprise. His head went round and he suddenly felt his knees weaken. A moment later, The Angel fell face-first onto the sheets. What a shame. He was boiling now. He was so angry and so all of a sudden aroused, that he didn't know what to do with himself. Although, he didn't really have to do anything. Angel felt Heath's strong hands grab him and overturn him on his back, placing his thighs upon his own. Before Angel could protest, Slater started moving his hips, and moving pretty fast, not leaving his lover a single second to catch his breath.

- What about now, huh? Big enough? _Hard_ enough?

- I hate you… - Panted Angel.

- Oh, I know, love, - Hissed Slater and leaned in, overhanging above the other man.

His sight was focused on Angel's open lips. Wet and sinful, they were such a sweet forbidden fruit. Heath couldn't resist but went to kiss Angel, immediately receiving a slap in return.

- What the?!..

- Hasn't Cherry told you? I don't kiss.

- Oh come on, let's face it. You want it just as much as I do.

Terrified, Angel realized that Heath was right. He let out a desperate growl and attacked Slater's mouth with a hate-kiss. Angel was biting his lips and grasping oh the back of his head, squeezing Heath's long ginger hair in his fist, pulling and pushing. As their lips parted for oxygen, Angel suddenly breathed out:

- Hurt me.

_- A__vec plaisir_.

Heath sat up a little bit, changing the angle, and pushed his hips forward, making his thrusts even harder, fastening after each and every moan of Angel, moan of pain, moan of pleasure, moan of defeat, hissing quietly as Angel's nails dug into the skin of Heath's back, leaving long red stripes behind.

Half an hour later, Heath left, slapping Angel's ass hard at parting, leaving a descent hand-print.

OOO

Cherry saw the redhead striding down the stairs and stopped rasping her huge gel nails, pulling her professional smile on, waiting for the visitor to leave. But Heath stopped by the reception desk, leaning on it slightly.

- Hi there, - he looked at her badge for a second, - Cherry. If this little playful south-african…

- Angel?

- Right, Angel… So, if he asks for my phone number – give it to him.

- Why in the world would Angel need your phone number? – asked Cherry, her extremely deep voice getting a little higher out of surprise.

- You'll see, - said Heath and winked at her, then striding out.

Cherry grinned and returned to doing her nails, but she couldn't even finish one finger, as she saw Angel, his hair crumpled, panting, running down the stairs dressed hastily, his T was screwed up and his fly was open. He hurried towards the reception desk and leaned on it, in the very same place where Slater was standing less than 2 minutes ago.

- Cherry, have you seen this guy, with long red hair?

- Yeeeah, so what?

- Do you… Do you have his phone number? In the client database, or something?

Cherrie's jaw dropped. Angel, _The Angel _himself asking for a random client's number? The Angel, so beyond everybody, so arrogant, and suddenly…

- Guuurl… - she breathed out and plunked the client journal on the counter, - I'm out! – she exclaimed in some especially squeaky voice, sounding as transsexual as it comes.

She really got up and strode somewhere _out, _wagging her hips, still murmuring different things like "_I fuckin' swear to my tucked up dick, what the fuck did he see in this ginger… Come ooon… I can't freaking believe it!_"

- You're over-reacting, Cherry, - said Angel, searching for the lucky number.


End file.
